


Like Coming Home

by Tamari



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kel and Lerant reunite in more favorable circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The world and characters of Tortall belong to Tamora Pierce, not to me.  
>  I listened to Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran’s Everything Has Changed on repeat while writing this, if you couldn’t tell. Inspired by max’s prompt "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine..."

Like the dignified nobleman he was, Lerant spit his drink all over the table when she walked in. “Gods,” he said to himself, “what is _she_ doing in Eldorne?”

“Who?” Pierre yawned, looking supremely unimpressed. “The blonde?”

Pierre was Lerant’s cousin, childhood friend, and occasional rival. Despite Lerant’s time with the Own, he had yet to win a drinking contest against Pierre, though he gave it a good try every time he returned to his home fief. 

The ladies, too, flocked to Pierre’s side. Lerant didn’t mind that, though, because he was a ready substitute for the girls who would be rejected that night. And it didn’t hurt that he wasn’t anyone’s first choice, really. He was used to it.

Lerant looked back at Mindelan, trying not to catch her attention. She _was_ blonde, her normally light-brown hair bleached by the summer sun and grown to brush her shoulders. Much to his surprise, she was garbed in a gown, albeit plain. He hadn’t seen her in anything but muddy field wear; at least, he hadn’t since she was younger. 

“Yes,” Lerant said, painfully aware he had taken too long to answer. “That’s Keladry of Mindelan. You know,” he added at Pierre’s shrug, “the lady knight? The Protector of the Small?”

Pierre looked her up and down. Lerant twitched. 

“Hmm,” Pierre said, “Going to bed her tonight?”

Luckily, Lerant was out of his drink, or he would have spit it up all over again. As it was, he felt his face go hot and became very inarticulate. “What — no, she — we fought together — I mean — it’s not…” He shook his head several times. 

Up at the bar, Mindelan was talking to the barkeep. Against his will, Lerant noticed the way she leaned on the counter, her elbow propping her up, one hip cocked. Her hips looked different than he remembered. He hastily averted his gaze before she felt his stare.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I did?” Pierre said nonchalantly. “She is good-looking. For a knight, and all.”

Lerant swallowed his indignance, because it had absolutely no place being there. “I don’t think she’d go for that. She’s not that type of girl.” He didn’t answer the question about minding. 

“I do need another drink—” 

“No!” Lerant blurted. “I… I need a drink too. I’ll go.” He stood up, flattened his hair, and grabbed their tankards.

Pierre smirked, but said nothing else. 

Mindelan was still at the bar, sitting on a stool and sipping her drink. He side-eyed her as the barkeep refilled the tankards and crossed the room. Had she gotten even taller? 

Her dreamy hazel eyes met his, first curious, then startled. “Lerant!” Her voice wasn’t unfriendly. “What are you doing here?”

He stared at her. “I live here,” he said, ignoring the technicality that he lived in the castle and not in the village pub. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Right, Eldorne.” Mindelan tucked her hair behind her ear. “I forgot. I’m just passing through, I guess. Needed a change of scenery.” _After Scanra_ was left unsaid.

Lerant sat on the stool beside her. “What are you drinking?” With the Own, Mindelan had only drunk barley water. She was the type of girl who wanted to be in control of herself at all times. Sensible, Lerant thought, but he could never have survived war without drinking himself to oblivion a few nights a month.

“Gin,” she answered. Anticipating his response, she continued, “I’ve had an odd week. I thought I might as well make it stranger. And here you are.”

Lerant thought maybe that was an insult. Normally, he would have responded aggressively. But he glanced back at Pierre, who was still watching him with a smirk, and that gave him pause. Hidden insults weren’t Mindelan’s style, and he was known for misinterpreting things. 

So he said, “Here I am. And what are you going to do with me?” He took a deep drink of his own ale. 

She smiled slightly, flicking her eyes down to his boots and back up to his face. “What _am_ I to do with you?” she said, in a tone he didn’t recognize, then paused. “You — you seem happier here.”

“Less bitter and edgy, you mean,” he said. “Maybe I’ve just grown up.” He didn’t mention the old days, and all the nasty things he had done and said to her before they had finally settled on an unofficial truce.

“Maybe you have,” she agreed. “So have I.”

“So I saw,” he said, which was perhaps too blunt. “You look very lovely tonight, Mindelan.”

Her normally inscrutable expression flickered. “You can call me Kel, you know.” 

They had turned toward each other during their conversation. His knee touched hers, and she didn’t move. He felt young again, nervous, his heart beating very fast. If someone had told him years ago that someday he’d sit in a pub, flirting with The Girl, he would have laughed. But things had changed.

“Will you be in Eldorne long?” Lerant asked.

She leaned her elbow on the bar and rested her head on her hand. “I don’t know. I don’t have an assignment right now. I can be wherever I want to be.” 

Lerant swallowed. “And where do you want to be, Kel?” 

She took a drink of her gin instead of answering immediately. Their knees were still touching. He watched her eyelashes flutter as she thought.

“You know,” he said, “we have lots of room in Eldorne Castle, if you wanted to stay for a while. We don’t get many noble visitors.” 

There was silence for another moment, and she put down her tankard. He had a sick feeling that he had been too forward.

“That sounds… very nice. Thank you,” Kel said. “Will your folks be all right with me staying?”

“Honestly, they’ll probably hope your good reputation will rub off on us. But I don’t care about that,” he was hasty to add, “I think you’ll love Eldorne. We have great trails up in the hills. You can take that monster horse of yours out for some exercise.”

“You should come with us. Peachblossom likes you more than Neal, at least.” She stood up and paid her tab.

Lerant did the same. “It’d be my pleasure.” 

She took his offered arm. As he escorted her out of the pub, he caught a wink from Pierre and rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

The night was cool and the walk to Eldorne Castle short. Kel leaned into his side, warmth radiating from her body. When she spoke, he didn’t register it for several seconds.

“Are you going to stay with me tonight?”

He stopped dead and turned to her. “Pardon?”

Her smile was only a little self-conscious. “We’re _both_ different now, Lerant. Not that I make it a habit of going home from pubs with strange men… but you’re not a stranger. I thought — maybe I was wrong — that you were interested. But I—”

“You weren’t wrong,” Lerant said quietly. They were walking through the castle gate now. “But I would like to get to know you… again. Without any tricks or pranks or duels.” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Me too,” she said. “I don’t play games, Lerant. I’m not going to sneak away in the morning.”

He looked at the woman beside him, so strong, beautiful, vivid. Kel had a talent for flipping the world upside down, he’d always known, but he hadn’t known that would extend to his own personal world. Somehow it didn’t matter what their families would say, what the court would say, what the Own would say. 

Kel reached out again, lacing her fingers through his, calloused hand to calloused hand. He shut the door to his chambers behind them.

They were both used to being talked about, anyway.


End file.
